Dizzy, I tried to focus on him and the fear behind his anger. Clearly he wasn’t feeling the same thing I was. “It’s not done yet. I have to register it.” Heart pounding, I closed my eyes, praying this wasn’t going to swing around to bite me on the ass. “Evulgo.”

I stiffened as a flare of ever-after shot through me, and my eyes opened at Trent’s hiss. “Keep your hand on the glass!” I warned him.

The four candles went out, the thin trails of smoke and the scent of sulfur rising like curls of thought to heaven. My gaze went to the as-yet-unlit candle. Please, please, please…

Relief pulled the corners of my mouth up as the last candle burst into flame, covering the scent of honest sulfur with the acidic, biting scent of burnt amber. “I pay the cost,” I whispered as I glanced at Trent, even before the smut could rise.

Trent grunted, his free hand clutching his shoulder where the familiar mark was. A wave of unseen force pulsed out from me, breaking my circle as it passed through, pressing the pixies into the air, and heading out in an ever-widening circle. From inside the abandoned building, something crashed to the floor. Still holding his arm, Trent looked to the gaping windows.

I let go of the ley line and took my hand from the scrying mirror. It was done, for better or worse, and I lifted my head and took a deep breath. I didn’t know what Trent would do, and it was scary. From the car, Ivy called out, “You good?”

Trent’s face was empty of emotion as he turned where he sat and pulled his sleeve up, twisting to see on his arm where the mark was—had been—I hoped.

“Good,” I called out to Ivy, my voice cracking. “I’m good!” I said louder, and she slumped back into the seat. She’d felt it. That was curious.

Trent made a small noise, his expression ugly. “What is that!” he exclaimed, his face becoming red as he twisted to show me his arm, and my lips parted. The demon mark was gone, but in its place was a dark discoloration of skin that looked like a birthmark. A birthmark in the shape of a smiley face. All it needed was the phrase “Have a nice day!” tattooed under it.

A mild panic hit me. This was so not fair. I had done the charm—curse—whatever—right, and I still ended up looking like a fool.

“What is that!” he demanded, the flush rising to his ears. From the open field, the pixies rose high then back down.

“Uh, it looks like a birthmark,” I said. “Really, it’s not that bad.”

“Is this your idea of a joke?” he exclaimed.

“I didn’t know it was going to do that!” I admitted, voice rising as I shifted to a kneel. My foot hit the mirror, and the candles all fell over, the one going out in a puff of smoke. “Maybe it’s so the demons know to keep their mitts off you!” Oh my God, it looked like a smiley face.